Sleepy Town

 

let’s not say
I’m auditioning
suburbs as lovers

I’m plenty sweet
on West End –
she knows me

she likes me
I like her
I know her

(well enough for
taking to bed)
the faded resin

of her scent
lingers on
some sudorific afternoons

I lick my fingers
taste patchouli and
smell faint rebellion

the ethnic indeterminacy
wall hangings above her bed
wide verandah webbed

decaying prayer flags
Oh, but Sunnybank
I like you, yes I do.

I’ve got your number
you’ve got mine
your house smells funny

but familiar
after all tidal time
and what if I die here?

lay my body down
under sticky neon sheets
on a futon stuffed with lucky money

incense sticks in my eyes
carpet me in biko pudding
stuff chewy pads of cuchinta

under both my armpits
let the streets eat me
just another sour smell

coming from behind
that Asian grocery store
the one with the signs I can’t read

Author: Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is Peril's Editor in Chief and Poetry Editor. Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer and radio broadcaster. She is currently Artist in Residence at La Boite Theatre in Brisbane and a Board Member of the Queensland Poetry Festival.